Of Fog and Fire  GoS 2010
by Merovia
Summary: Glut of Smut entry 2010. Set during Rhetts blockading days prior to the Atlanta Bazar. Please R&R.


_**A/N: **Hi all,_

_Here it is at last. My GoS story... first of all sorry for the lame title, my imagination seem to have deserted me. Secondly, you should be forwarned that this might not be the smuttiest of smutty stories... it is my first go, and the scenario given was a hard nut to crack (no pun intended)... _

_Well enough with the talking... her goes the story - enjoy! The scenario given will be revealed at the bottom of this post:_

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Glut of Smut 2010 - Of Fog and Fire**

It was a beautiful night – just after sunset - the sky still aglow with the light of the just disappeared sun. Dusk... a state in between darkness and light – soft and silent. The calm before a storm perhaps, given that these were generally not peaceful times. To prove this point the still waters were broken by an insistent ripple. In the far distance a boat glided past causing this disturbance. It was well lit – definitely not sailing undercover as most other boats about were these days – and therefore of course it could be concluded that this particular vessel was one belonging to the Union occupants.

Then silence reigned again. Though this close to the coast it was never really silent. The lone hoot of an early owl setting out on its nightly hunt. A squeak from an annoyed bird who was disturbed by something in the undergrowth. Now and again a splash disturbed the calm waters as a fish poked a whole in its blankety blank surface. From time to time a hushed murmur could be heard, most of the men permanently residing in this area was not interested in being heard, neither by occupants nor allies; each an every one had his or even her own reason to remain undercover. Shadowy existences that had come together in these outskirts of the living land finding food where possible or even the odd job where no questions were asked.

The soundtrack changed slowly as the darkness got denser and denser – sounds never seem the same when the ability of sight is diminished – they become clearer and sharper. As light fades the contours of the land becomes blurred before finally disappearing completely, but sounds on the contrary come alive when darkness settles.

As most of the surrounding nature went to sleep the boats hidden along the coastline came alive once more. They had glided in closer to coast as darkness settled and were now eagerly awaiting this daily opportunity to unload and load their precious cargo. Though it would probably be some hours still before they could start this activity. For now they were just happy to have navigated past the Yankee fleet once more. This close to the coast they were safe – or at least relatively so for now. The outlaws that lived in these marshlands posed no threat as they were generally altogether too happy to get a dime for carrying cargoes from land to sea and vice versa.

When the stars came out a new sound intermingled with the growing sounds of night time. The melancholic voice of a harmonica pierced the partial silence with its enthralling longing sorrowful notes. It was too late for even the keen Yankee ears to be about or at least to get close enough. So the tune played on in stubborn defiance of the dangerous times that was now.

On one of the boats the Captain leaned back in satisfaction with another job well done. It had been a rough crossing of the Atlantic, and the Yankees net around the Confederate coastline was slowly getting less and less penetrable. It had been a close call this time – but again him and his masterful crew had managed to slip through the net – and now awaited their contact on American soil to come an unload the ship and bring cotton to return to the starving English mills. It would be the last trip – he hated loss and thus had promised himself to stop when the risk of failure grew to high – and that time was he estimated approaching rapidly.

He had sent the crew down below deck to get some rest before the hard work of dragging goods from the belly of the sleek boat began. It was heavily loaded and stood low in the water – they would need all the strength they could gather for the task ahead. Thus now he sat alone – gazing over the waters. Where seconds before it had been clear and inviting – now the fog rolled in obscuring his vision – making the faint outlines of the landscape against the dark sky look eerie and twisted like something out of a horror story. Luckily he did not believe in such nonsense. Captain Rhett Butler was a man of common sense and logical reasoning, he however hoped it would not play tricks with the faint hearted mean in the crew, nor the locals on whom he depended. He wanted to set sail as early as possible, so as to be far out of reach of Yankee eye and canon power when light broke once again.

With a sigh he sat down on the wooden crates at the starboard end of the ship. He stretched his long boot clad legs out in front of him an leisurely leaned back against the pile of stacked goods behind him. Almost a comfortable seat. In his hand was a glass of whiskey – especially imported for his own benefit. They did not make whiskey like this anywhere but in Scotland. He would miss it dearly once it could no longer be gotten, but luckily that point in time was far far away thanks to his private stash that had piled up over the many blockading trips he had ventured on so far. And even he with his pessimistic attitude of war, was reluctant to believe that the war would last as long as his stock. The smell and taste was strong – an intense yet seducing assault to the senses – smoke, tar and a multitude of other pungent nuances that made this blend spectacular. It suited the scenery - this amber liquid with its smoky soul – a perfect companion to a lonesome nightly watch duty. In the far distance the tones of the harmonica grew slower and even more sorrowful, yet they also held a promise of something else – or perhaps it was just the longing that was in each note that made it seem so. The lonesome captain drank deeply from the glass and put it down next to him. With the same fluid motion he procured a fat cigar seemingly out of thin air. The flame that sprang from the match lit up his face in a fleeting second. Strong chiselled features, full lips, aristocratic nose paired with a well kept moustache. You didn't see too many of those aboard the ships that played mouse and cat with the Yankee fleet but it seemed that the same care that was applied to bringing his ship safe to harbour he also applied to himself even under these less than perfect circumstances. Other crew longer beards and gave toss about bodily odours. But not Rhett Butler. He was sleek and groomed like his ship. Even the shirt he wore told the tale of immaculate care with his look – though there was nothing of the dandy about this man. Strong and muscular of build as he was the well tailored shirt seemed a casual afterthought.

Leaning back further into his semi comfortable seat he breathed in the smoke of the cigar deeply and exhaled long tendrils of smoke that blended with the fog in a way that created silhouettes of swirling smoke that seemed almost organic and alive.

He starred into the darkness, starring with unfocused eyes. Those keen eyes, black as the deepest fathoms of sea, normally they were sharp and took in every little detail of his surrounding. They along with his sharp mind was what had brought him safe to land, more times than any other ship running the blockade. But this evening they seemed pensive, telling the tale of a man lost in thought. Taking in everything yet falling into deep thought and seeing nothing at all.

The further he starred the more intricate and lifelike the figures of swirling smoke became. A rearing horse, a dancing couple. Intermingling with the tendrils of fog that arose from the water, crawling over the railing of the ship. Here a face appeared, there a monster out of a fairytale. Remaining there only for a hint of a second before they were dissolved by the light breeze and another waft of smoke. With a wry smile he scolded himself silently – he wondered if something other than tobacco had been put into the cigar he was so thoroughly enjoying. He was not normally prone to seeing things that were out of the measurable world. But somehow this other-side seemed determined to convince him of its existence this evening.

He might have closed his eyes for a moment longer than just the normal blink of an eye. For when he next looked into the swirling mist and smoke a more solid form seemed to have emerged. A face. A face that didn't just disappear instantly, but stayed on for several seconds, before with a grimace that might have been a laugh it melted away.

He drew another long breath from his cigar, and slowly exhaled the smoke.

Again a face appeared, the same? Stayed even a bit longer this time. He blinked hard, this was not the time to start believing in ghost stories.

Again the face appeared. This time he was sure. It was the same face...a woman's face, though still a bit to far away to discern her features. Wasps of smoke and fog billowed around her head, like a thick mane of hair.

He stared mesmerized at the scenery in front of him. What seemed like out of thin air materialised now also slender shoulders and the shapely torso of a woman.

Long fingers stretched out towards him. He wanted to jump up – but he felt unable to move.

Oddly enough he wasn't scared just puzzled – though somehow it didn't feel as far fetched as one would have thought. As even he would have thought just moments before.

"Don't move" a raspy voice spoke to him from out of the mist. He blinked again. This time harder. Was the tobacco starting to affect his ability to hear too or? One thing was seeing things that did not exist, but hearing things was a completely different matter.

He watched in silent astonishment as the something emerged out of the swirling shadows. No longer just a something but the complete figure of a woman – not wispy and smoke like like before, but beautifully clad, rich materials that both hugged her body emphasising her curves, yet billowed like the smoky tendrils from which she had come. Long luscious dark hair, features that were delicate yet not enough to make her exactly beautiful. And eyes... eyes burning with an intense fire, they were what really held him spellbound. Eyes the colour of precious emeralds.

For a moment he thought that perhaps he had been too quick to dismiss the haunting tales of mermaids that always were a preferred topic when aboard a ship filled with men out on the waves far away from any other form of female. But somehow it didn't ring true for this creature in front of him. She was not something of water, but of earth and strong wind, alive and burning with an intense fire from within.

He breathed in deeply as the creature moved closer. He willed himself to try and move, though the urge was not as strong as it had previously been.

"Don't move" the words were rapidly repeated in the same raspy words. Before he had time to consider whether the commands was worth obeying or not a hand came down on his chest. With surprising force pinning him down.

"I said – don't move"

What had he expected from the touch he hadn't considered, but certainly not this warmth that spread from the contact through the thin fabric of his shirt. He had been right, she – it? - was not a creature of water, but of warm earth and fire.

Slowly the woman kneeled in front of him. As she did so she relented the contact with his chest just a bit, sliding her hand up across its wide expanse. His shoulders were wide enough to not be entirely gentlemanly but it didn't seem to bother this uninvited guest that made what effort she could to be welcomed.

A second later the other hand followed the first, sliding gently yet firmly over his chest, landing safely on the opposite shoulder. Then she leaned closer.

"you are mine tonight, just mine... don't you forget that"

And then she leaned even closer, he could feel the heat of her body against his. This strange woman which he still didn't know whether was real or not, a woman with haunting eyes. Eyes that stirred a memory deep within him.

He had seen those eyes before. In another lifetime? In an existence that seemed to far away to grasp now that his life was on the rolling planks at sea.

Her touch burned him, sending shivers and sparks through him at every touch. More than once the soft sliding touch of her warm hand made him catch his breath as they travelled up an down his chest. She smiled at him, diabolically? Seductively? Rarely had he been affected this way by a woman's touch, and never in a situation as strange as this. He considered struggling against it but he instinctively felt it would be useless. Tonight he would have to go where she led him, this creature which had arrived out of the blue. The more reasonable part of him insisted that she was nothing but a common whore of the marshlands who offered her services in a rather unusual way. But still, deep down he knew it wasn't true. The eerie familiarity of her haunting green eyes made him doubt it.

"Tonight you are mine you know" she leaned even closer. He could feel her warm breath on his cheek and felt the small hairs at the back of his neck stand in command. Slowly she brought her lips in contact with his skin, moist warmness against his skin. Trailing down his neck.

Slowly she eased herself onto his lap. Never breaking eye contact as if she wanted to savour each flicker in his eyes as part of her own enjoyment. Fabric against fabric. He could feel himself springing to life as her warmness pressed against his trousers. Already straining almost painfully against the rigid material of his breeches. His breathing grew more heavy, and he wanted to close his eyes. Leave out the awkward mystery of the situation and simply let loose. Let loose and enjoy, without thought or reason. Enjoy this skilled woman's touch whether real or imagined – after all a man had some needs after several weeks at sea.

Instantly her voice rasped. "look at me, you have got to look at me... you have to remember"

On command he opened his eyes again, and his eyes met her in a long intense gaze. Green, burning green eyes took up the whole of his vision, blurring out the world and everything before and after this moment. Green eyes, nothing but green eyes. He sense she smiled. Seductively? Possessively?

She paused her face just an inch from his, her breath he sensed was also growing more heated. The pause might have lasted less than a second before though it felt as long as the life of the universe, then she finally let her lips seek out his. At first her lips against his were soft and inviting, softly investigating his full lips. But rapidly the kiss grew more intense. She demanded and received what she requested no questions asked. He felt overcome by passion, single minded blind overwhelming passion to possess this strange woman who had sought him out at the brink of night. He who always prouded himself of the amount of control he could exert over himself was rapidly loosing out to the skilled ministerings of this green eyed siren of the night. A stranger, yet eerily familiar though he could not place the familiarity, but it called to him through his passion begged him to remember.

Again she deepened the kiss, kissing greedily, hungrily, as if she too had lost control and just wanted to exist in the moment. Her breathing as well as his was haggard and came in short angry breaths, thus was the intensity of the kisses. The sound piercing through the calm night at conflict with the seeming stillness around, but he was beyond caring. She brought her hands to his hair and brought his head slightly back in order to get better access. Any thought of regaining control now left him and he allowed himself to be swept away, existing solely in the moment and in each and every burning kiss. Her taste, her smell all imprinted itself as an intoxicating elixir in his muddled mind.

Suddenly she broke the kiss.

"Don't you remember...? Don't you recognise me?"a hint of sadness was in her voice. He looked at her longingly, again willing himself to remember, but only the faint recollection of her eyes stirred something in him. He closed his eyes and faintly shook his head couldn't take the accusation he would surely soon find in the depths of her green eyes.

A pause, an intake of breath as he with his lids blocked out the surroundings.

"I told you to look at me" The sadness was gone and the green eyed seductress was back, more insisting, more inviting than even before.

She kissed him again. Long languid kisses, as if her first hunger for him had been stilled. She knew she was in control and apparently felt no urge to prove the point further.

"You will remember... soon" again long kisses. Her fingers trailed from his hair down his cheeks before spreading out against his shirt front. Sending currents of lust down his spine. The strain against his breeches was now almost unbearable. He wanted to posses her completely, but instinctively new, that no matter what he did he could not force the pace of her agenda.

"We met... long ago, or perhaps only a short time ago... but it was another lifetime... at least for me" Each of her was followed by an almost offhanded caress to his chest. Then a moment of silence. She leaned her head back and a throaty laugh on the brink of madness erupted from within her piercing the silence with its eerie ring.

"We met then... briefly... Oh so briefly..." She trailed of, lost in some far away memory.

"and now we meet again" she came back with a vengeance, eyes shining with life and the joy of being. Another kiss was granted him as her fingers deftly started to undo the buttons of his shirt.

"Once you remember..." there it was again, that smile... seduction? Devilry? What did she know that he didn't.

"You will never forget" another kiss and then she slid her hands onto his bare skin, letting her fingers spread through the hair, curiously exploring the muscular expanse that now was barred to her.

"You will never rest until you find me again" she brought her lips down to his chest and traced a complex pattern there as if sealing his destiny with an oath. The curse of a sorcerer or a blessing? He shivered involuntarily and for a moment his head cleared. What was this all? All instincts in him cried out for him to escape. To topple this woman and get away. He felt too barred for comfort. His control was slipping, had already slipped... and it scared him. Yet something held him back. Perhaps it was fate telling him that escape was no longer possible. Though only moments before he would have laughed at fate, dismissing it as nonsense... but now... again he felt the urge to escape. How much conflict in such a brief span of time.

Before he could continue down this mental pathway however she started moving on top of him, gentle gyrating movements that sent waves of passion through him. He was powerless against this creature. Something in him was also curious. Curious about what she was professing for him and what this night would bring.

"Never rest" She had now undone his shirt completely and moved back a little to allow herself access to the intricate closing system of his breeches. Not that they proved much challenge. As deftly as before she undid the buttons and then, then he was free.

"Never forget" She smiled victoriously at the sight of him, erect and ready, and leaned in to give him another kiss, long deep and filled with passion.

As her mouth resumed exploring his, her hand now took their explorations elsewhere. She rubbed him gently yet with a toughness that almost brought him to the brink. Sensing this she pulled back a little before resuming her activities, prolonging the pleasure almost to the point of agony.

"You will never be free, always mine. You dreams will from this point on belong to me, and only to me" her words held a promise of pleasure but also of foreboding, the latter though he was beyond caring to notice. Each touch she made brought new sensations, he felt alive as he never had before. His skin was on fire, and all he could sense was this creature of fog, fog and fire.

Lightly she grabbed his hand an brought it to her core between her legs. His breath caught in his throat and he felt on the brink of explosion. She was warm and wet, warm wet and inviting. She let his hand explore her ready core for just a second before lifting it away. The puppeteer – master of the show. Not that he minded, to far engrossed was he in this wanton lovemaking if that was even an appropriate word to describe the ravishing she subjected him to.

Slowly she lifted herself of him before easing herself onto his all to eagerly awaiting manhood.

Pure pleasure filled him as she slid down the length of him, tight and ready was she for his entrance. He heard how her breath caught as well, it was not only him that was driven to distraction. She sat there fore a moment letting him take in the feel of her, straining against her tightness. Clearly enjoying the sensation of their union as much as him.

Again her eyes sought his, they were shining brightly, almost feline. And her lips spread in a smile that was both victorious and seductive.

"Now you will never be free" she murmured as her lips again sought his and she started moving on top of him, slowly at first, rocking with the sweet lull of the boat, before gaining speed. No longer going with the rippling current of the sea, but creating her own crashing waves. A maelstrom of hot sensations.

He felt so close now, he couldn't last much longer. His body was alive with sensations, with heat and fire and an urge to hold this woman close for as long as possible. With each thrust they were branded together. How could he ever let go of this? Never had he felt more alive, more free... not even in the most dangerous storm he had ever ridden, not even in the multiple passionate embraces that had come before this. Not ever.

He was close, he could feel sweet abandon overwhelming him as he prepared himself for one last melting thrust and then let go...

"Captain Butler"

"Captain Butler?" an unexpected call came from somewhere.

"Captain Butler are you awake...?" the anxious voice of his second in command pierced through his passion ridden mind. Where seconds ago there had been warmth and fire, now he felt only the cold breeze of late night. His breathing however was still heavy and he was reluctant to open his eyes.

"Captain Butler...?" another cold breeze washed over him, and the sounds of the night to which he had been oblivious to for the last...? well he didn't know how much time had passed. It was less quiet than before. The shore had obviously come to live as he had been lost in the eyes of green.

"Captain... can you hear me, the men are here for the cargo" Reluctantly he opened his eyes. Expecting to see the green eyed siren still with him. But nothing but darkness and the faint light of the lanterns on land surrounded him.

He shook his head, and rubbed his eyes.

"I'm here – I'll be with you shortly" even to his own ears his voice seemed rough and haggard. He needed just another moment to adjust to this new take on reality after having abandoned himself to the passionate embrace... of... of what?

I couldn't have been a dream could it? A creation of his own mind. He rapidly ran his hand over his shirt. No signs of the recent activities were clear on him, only a few extra crinkles to his pristine shirt, a toppled glass of whiskey and a straining sensation from his loins. Told the tale of what could only have gone on in his mind.

He trust his hand to his face and rubbed hard, trying to shake the last shards of his... dream?

Momentarily he felt a great sense of loss, then he shook his head in disbelief. He leaned back his head and gave a long laugh, Rhett Butler had never been one to shy from ridiculing himself. A wet dream... he must have been nothing more than an adolescent when last he had experienced the humiliation of this type of lonesome nightly activities – well at least this time it hadn't been his mother that had disturbed the outcome.

"Are you coming Captain Butler, we need to get working and the men will not start without you"

With a shrug of the shoulder said captain slowly gather himself, got up and turned to his work. Hard work to occupy his muscles and his brain would be just the cure.

"Here Peters" he said as he stepped out of the shadows in which he had sat. The men was ready, awaiting his command. Impatient to get all done so that they could go away again either to more adventure or to reap the fruit of the labour as the illegal goods were sold at steep prices to the luxury hungry southerners.

However as he later that night with a satisfied grin could set sails for another thrilling run on the Yankee blockades the dream came back to him. It had been so lifelike, so real, at the mere though his skin tingled as from real human touch. The haunting green eyes that seemed so real despite them only being a figment of his imagination. They had looked into his soul and somehow he felt altered. But how, how could they when they weren't real?

They were, weren't they?

Then it came to him, he had really seen those eyes before. A warm afternoon in late spring, before the earth was scorched by war and an unforgiving sun. He had seen those eyes then, seen them aglow with fire, albeit an angry fire, not a passionate one. Not that he had given them much thought in the many months since then, had anyone asked him to recall those events just days before he would have been hard pressed to give any details. Now, now however he remembered them clearly. A pair of intensely green eyes in an unforgettable face. Flaring temper, and those eyes, those green haunting eyes that had visited him in a most unexpected way this night. Eyes as green as the field of the lands of her paternal ancestors. Proud and stubborn as them as well. But back then it had mainly been her eyes and her shapely body that had caught his eyes though perhaps it was the qualities behind them that now enabled him to recall her so clearly... He remembered how he had laughed at her stubbornness, yet been impressed with the strong will and single mindedness he had seen in her. Beauty and the sense of purity that had been about her, nothing but a thing veneer for what he felt was a very passionate nature underneath.

He laughed loudly to himself, causing more than one pair of eyes amongst the crew members to be directed at him questioningly.

He remembered her, her with eyes of green, and a soul as black as his own.

She – his dream sorcerer was right, he would never be free of those haunting green eyes now. Not when he had an idea what they would look like aglow with passion. He had been sure of her passionate nature then... yet he had dismissed the idea of her after learning of her pending marriage to that young buck that had hung at her skirts after the war had been declared. Well, no shame in revisiting the past... Perhaps the war would give him an opportunity to see her again, to seek her out and learn more about her fate.

After this last run at the blockades he would seek her out... until then he would have to live with the memories. And what memories... he grinned at the surrounding darkness.

Elegantly he lifted his hat at the rapidly disappearing coastline.

"So long Miss O'Hara... so long..." And with a satisfied smirk he lit another cigar.

The End...

_Scenario given by Raicheal: "Rhett has a wet dream." - No other requirements_

_It really was a challenge..._


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